


Fate's Favorite Mistake

by chalkunderstars



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Issues, Gen, John Lives, Lucretia is trying her best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14055045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalkunderstars/pseuds/chalkunderstars
Summary: “Well listen, we kill most of the people we come in contact with anyway!"Merle accidentally saves the world. Everyone needs help dealing with the aftermath.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [salamanderbard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamanderbard/gifts).



> so this is the first fic i've written in... five years. so thanks to the mcelroys for spurring my creativity and to @axolotlich on twitter for begging me to write this after i started tossing the idea around.
> 
> this isn't beta read so uh enjoy that. criticism is welcome, esp because i haven't written for taz before. also this was originally going to be way more johnchurch centric but it. did not end up like that. so sorry.

At first Merle thinks he’s dreaming.

It’s a fair assumption if you ask him. The last thing he remembers is falling asleep. His dreams have been kinda weird this past week. He never remembers them, but there’s… impressions. Checkmate. Nice shoes. _Eyes_.

Eyes that are everywhere around him right now, not all of them open, embedded into the walls and ceiling that look like how an asleep limb feels. Like static.

That can’t be right though. He’s been innoculated after all, just like everyone else on this damn base. There isn’t anything that should be hidden from him, especially not in his own mind.

“Hey Merle. You got a minute?”

The voice startles him and Merle turns sharply towards, well, what may have once been a man. His face would be handsome if it weren’t broken like a dropped egg, black sludge with sharp bursts of color seeping from the cracks instead of yolk. The same fissures are creeping along his hands until they’re hidden under the sleeve of his well tailored suit, going on for who knows how far. A wane smile graces his face, but there’s something in his expression that Merle can’t identify.

Maybe he isn’t asleep after all. The slimey weight that feels like it’s settled in his guts is too real for that.

This must be a test.

Without thinking about it he reaches for Smoosher on his back, hefting the familiar weight. Clearly this is a BoB illusion to test his reflexes or something, there’s no other way this makes sense. The days have been blurring together with their intense training - he must be forgetting something is all. It’s not like his brain isn’t swiss cheese.

Despite everything his instinct is still to call out a zone of truth, but he goes for sacred flame instead. Might as well get this over with after all. The not-man curses, eyes wide and mouth open to say something else, but Merle gets in a solid hit on his chest before he can speak.

The world dissolves around them.

~

Here’s what happens:

All at once the Hunger explodes, repelled from the planes it currently surrounds like oil in water, desperately trying to mix but unable. It is too large to comprehend. The skies blacken and the world is plunged into darkness.

Things begin slipping through the thin barrier into the material and astral plane. Objects. Animals. People.

The gods feel a sudden rush of power, each of them practically full to bursting from having more followers they could have ever imagined. The Raven Queen sighs and knows she’s in for a bureaucratic nightmare.

A being outside the known and unknown universe hits the metaphysical breaks and says, quite simply, “aw beans.”

The world starts up again. It is light and it is alone once more.

~

So here’s the thing. Magnus knows he should be in bed, he really does, but Taako fell asleep on him halfway through Fantasy Chopped and he’s pretty sure this follows the same rules as when a dog lays down on you. All things considered he’s lived a life much longer than he expected and dying like this, trapped under one of his best friends who is basically a rock, wouldn’t be that bad.

Luckily he’s still working on the same block of wood as when the show had started. If he weren’t he’d probably be asleep too, but what can he say? Killian needs this duck super bad.

Someone on the screen starts crying because the ice cream maker is being used and there’s thirty seconds left. His hand starts moving down as he’s trying to shape the head. Reality skips a few beats and the beak is suddenly too sharp, time has run out for the round, and there’s a dude standing in their living room.

He does what he feels like any normal person would do in this situation. Jumps up, taking Taako in one arm and holding his grandfather’s pocket knife out with the other, and shouts. “What the fuck?!”

The man blinks at him like an old, startled deer. Fantasy Ted Allen tuts disappointedly in the silence.

“What the hell my man?” Comes a sleepy grumble and Taako squirms like a displeased cat, wiggling out of his arms and onto the couch where he also stares at the disheveled stranger in their midst. “Listen, I know everyone wants a piece of this, but cha’ boy’s gotta have his beauty sleep, so maybe come back in the morning gramps.”

If anything the man looks more bewildered now, looking over the two of them. “Who are you? Where am I? Why are his ears-”

Merle’s door chooses that moment to slam open and the dwarf himself waddles out, looking confused and ready to complain to anyone who will listen before he notices Weird Business Man. “Didn’t I just kill you?” he asks.

_“What?”_

Weird Business Man looks as confused as Magnus feels, so he sits down and shares a look with Taako who seems to be slowly realizing this guy isn’t a fanboy BoB employee. Things would be a lot easier if he were, but when have things ever been easy? And okay, admittedly it’s usually their own fault, but it isn’t this time! Probably! Well, Merle just said he killed the dude standing between them, so maybe it’s Merle’s fault, but Magnus isn’t to blame and he is oh so very fine with that. If only this made sense.

“Okay,” Magnus says, trying to sound calm and in charge and failing miserably. “Okay. Okay okay okay. How about someone goes and grabs the Director and, uh, you tell us your name.” He motions to the stranger, who points to his own chest questioningly, hand dropping before he can get a response.

“Uh,” he looks around again, trying to smooth his rumpled and wine stained shirt. “My name is John. Can one of you please tell me where I am now?”

~

There are mongeese in her office. Mongoose? Mongooses? It doesn’t really matter. There is more than one mongoose skittering around her desk, chattering in a way that seems incredibly familiar.

They come up to her and try to say something and Lucretia thinks she might be dying. If not that she’s already in hell. In hell with a mongoose speaking a language she hasn’t heard in over a hundred years.

“I-I don’t understand you.” She says, voice smooth and heavy with gravitas even as she inwardly panics.

Everything was normal just a second ago. Was it a second ago? It should have been but it feels like longer and she doesn’t know why. She blinked and now there is an angry animal trying to… have a conversation, she supposes. One she can’t possibly hope to take part in. Not for the first time she wishes she’d found Lup, wishes she’d recovered the relics sooner so they could all be together again.

Not that that would fix the problem. Hell, she isn’t even sure how she’s having this problem in the first place. The animal planet was consumed by the Hunger after all.

There’s a knock at her door.

~

John isn’t having a pleasant day. The last thing he remembers is finishing his talk on existence, on eternity, the one that was recorded and going to be made available later that day. He’d wandered back to his hotel room, the burden he had been carrying alone somehow feeling heavier now that he knew the whole world would have access to it. He’d started drinking wine from the minibar. Some had spilled, but he hadn’t had it in himself to care about changing before he passed out. What did it matter after all? And now he’s here, far too sober to deal with where “here” is.

According to the large man in the duckling boxers he’s on the moon. The one with the strange, rabbit like ears who in the clothes he’s wearing looks like either a very good Halloween costume or a very bad cosplay is an elf. The short one who’d claimed to have killed him was going to go fetch their boss, who apparently ran an organization that collected magical artifacts.

It’s unbelievable, and yet the elf is right in front of him, ears twitching in what John can only assume is irritation. The other human had pulled back their carpet and revealed them hovering above an unfamiliar world.

There are a lot of odd things about this situation, but perhaps one of the strangest is the fact that John doesn’t know why the continents and shifting oceans below them look strange. Maybe it’s just how high up they are, but it doesn’t look right. And how come magic and elves seem so out of place? Both of these people treat them like they’re common, benign even, but something about that feels wrong.

If he tries to think about it though all that happens is his headache gets worse. Even if nothing feels right he’s just going to have to roll with it, he supposes. It’s not as though he has many other options.

The door opens and the short man steps through, tailed a dark skinned woman and a small group of what look like larger, peeved weasels.The woman is nodding at whatever’s he’s saying, looking deeply uncomfortable, but John is too focused on him. He, more than anything else, looks familiar. His beard is braided and pink and he’s almost kind of… handsome, in a crunchy way. John doesn’t really have a type but if he did he’s sure that would be it.

A question from the woman jolts his attention back to the matter at hand and he starts, gaze jerking over to her. “Pardon?”

She sighs tiredly, but John can’t bring it in himself to feel bad. “I said, do you know where you are mister…?”

“Smith. I was told I was on the moon?”

“Wait wait wait,” the large man says, and John is sure he’s going to accuse John of lying about his name. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Why do you have mongeese with you? It’s unfair that I can’t have a dog if you have mongooses!”

“They’re my best seekers.” She replies, voice so deadpan John doesn’t know whether she’s joking or not. “Mister Smith, if you would come with me? You boys stay here.”

The three groan and whine like petulant children, but do as they’re told while John follows.

He’s lead through winding, dimly lit corridors, out onto a grassy field covered in domes that make him feel like he’s walking to a sport stadium. It’s dark out, the stars shining brilliantly, and if he looks up he sees the unfamiliar planet again. That makes him queasy though, so he focuses on following behind the Director.

Once inside one of the domes she leads him towards… cells? Only one is filled, occupied by a man who’s snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

“Unfortunately, this is a bit of a breach of security.” The Director says, opening a door and motioning inside. “So while I sort out how you got passed our security you will need to stay here. Someone will be by to question you in the morning.”

John scoffs, crossing his arms and standing to his full height, still a few inches shy of her. “I don’t know how I got here, but I am not going to be treated like a criminal. How do we know they didn’t kidnap me?”

“Because my staff is too incompetent to do that without me knowing. Especially those chucklefucks.” It’s an incredibly matter of fact statement, one that makes him briefly pause before barreling onward.

“Then what about you? How do I know you didn’t kidnap me?”

She grits her teeth and John can practically see her headache building. “You don’t. It doesn’t matter. Someone brought you in here, maybe just to see if they could, but I can’t risk my people. So John, either you will walk in this cell willingly or _I will make you_.” There’s a quiet anger about her, something that goes far deeper than a simple security breach.

He gets in the cell.

It’s only when she’s walking away that he realizes he never told her his first name.

~

Things move quickly after that. Angus, with the help of Killian and a zone of truth, interview John. The mongeese are sent down to the Felicity Wilds. Lucretia talks with her (old friends) star reclaimers, together and separately to get all their stories straight with as few goofs as possible. Reports come in that things and people have appeared all around Faerun and no one knows how to explain it. No one except her.

Merle had taken his sweet time explaining the finer points of parley to them all, decades ago. He’d never quite explained how to do it, but in some ways she’d doubted any of them would be capable anyway. With enough pressing about his deaths he’d explained that only the person who started the meeting could be killed, as a show of honor and trust. Magnus had been furious, raging about how they were sending one of their own off to die without any way to protect himself, without a way to fight back. Davenport had mused about what would happen is the Hunger began a parley and was killed.

Now they know.

Everything she has feared, has tried to protect the universe from, is gone in the blink of an eye. All because Merle couldn’t keep himself from murdering a stranger.

It should be comforting, should be a joyous occasion for all of them to celebrate together. There should be tears and alcohol and bone crushing hugs. Instead she just feels empty. What she’s been doing for the past decade was, in the end, pointless. All it did was hurt the people she cared about most, or at least the ones she had left. Lup was still missing, Barry a lich who will probably keep trying to stop her from-

From what? Making the light of creation whole again? The Hunger is gone, the remaining relic left in Wonderland. Sure, maybe it would be worth it to get it out of Edward and Lydia’s hands, but it doesn’t matter in the way it did before.

Both of them, she thinks, are useless now. Locked in a strange battle over nothing.

She knows what she should do. Deactivate the undead ward. Bring Magnus, Merle, Taako, and Davenport to the voidfish’s baby. Have them drink the ichor. Watch Taako self destruct because Lup is gone and never coming back. Be killed at the hands of her friends for causing them all so much pain. Pain that was worthless in the end.

She can’t. Not yet.

The guilt is crushing, but somehow the idea of seeing the betrayal on all their faces is worse. It’s cowardly, she knows that, but she needs time. She needs to prepare.

They’ve all been rushing towards this same, empty victory of eleven years now. What are a few more months to them, clueless and happy?

No doubt Barry will be upset at her for waiting, and rightfully so, but in dealing with the consequences for what she’d done she’d assumed she’d have… something of a buffer. Maybe not saving the multiverse, but this world at least. A way to show that it had been worth it in the end. And maybe she isn’t ready to talk to them without that neatly tucked under her belt, maybe she never will be and she’ll just leave them notes and flasks of ichor while she disappears somewhere. It would hurt, never seeing them again, but maybe it would be for the best. She could keep an ear out for how they’re all doing.

Somehow that sounds worse than the barrage she expects to face once they remember.

A few weeks won’t hurt that much to mull it over, surely. Maybe a month or two. Some of them will understand, or at least she hopes they will.

For the moment Lucretia allows herself to sit in her office and breathe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i. may have been inspired and stayed up all night to write this. and then this section kept getting longer. and longer. and i realized what i'd wanted to put in here wasn't going to happen in what i consider a reasonable length chapter, so i'm not even sure how many chapters this is gonna have anymore. probably three or four and then i might write more in this continuity? uhh idk. i've got an outline but now i have no idea how long it'll stretch into.
> 
> but anyway oh shit it's john hunger('s chapter, we'll get back to lucretia in the next one)
> 
> ALSO warning for brief and minor description of drowning in this chapter. skip the paragraph that begins with "Struggling only seems to be making it worse," to avoid that

All John can really do is wait. The person in the cell next to his, Robbie, tries a few times on the first day to talk, but he can’t bring himself to answer. That same day a young boy comes by with a woman who has green skin and looks like she could break him in half. He asks John questions he can’t begin to figure out how to answer, but in the end he’s promised books on history to help “refresh his memory”. The woman suggests he might have some some kind of memory blocking spell cast on him and John doesn’t correct her. For all he knows it could be true.

When they leave the boy looks troubled as the two whisper about red robes and possession, the possibility of his brain being scrambled after being overtaken by a lich. It doesn’t really matter.

The books come later that day, delivered by a guard along with a meal and new clothes. Neither of them try to talk, but Robbie spends ten minutes begging for Pringles while John is trying to read. He snaps at the guard to please just do it, if only so Robbie will be quiet, and she does. His fellow prisoner doesn’t try to bother him for the rest of the day.

This becomes routine at mealtimes. There a couple times a guard won’t respond to Robbie’s pleading or John’s requests, but for the most part they do. Depending on how long this has been going on they’re more tired of this than he already is which probably helps.

Outside of that pours over the history books, reading and rereading to try and spark… something.

It should be familiar. There’s no reason it shouldn’t be. Nothing matches up with the memories of his life though, from the areas on the map to the brief overviews of different schools of magic. There are no mentions of the sprawling cities he remembers doing talks in, no blurbs on wars or technological upheavals from just a couple generations ago. Familiar figures, pillars of modern society, are completely absent, replaced with people like the Miller family and Cyrus Rockseeker. He doesn’t tell anyone any of this, barely even talks unless he needs to.

After a week Robbie suddenly starts talking again, presumably to him because the door to where the cells are located didn’t open. John ignores him, focusing harder on the map of Goldcliff he’s been staring at for ten minutes, until there’s the sound of a container opening and a pointed clearing of the throat.

He looks up and in front of him is the young boy from the first day, alone this time. August, maybe? No, Angus, his name was Angus. He’d been very proud of being a child detective.

“Hello sir!” He says cheerily. “I’m here to bust you out!” With that Angus plucks a cartoonish wand with a star on the end from a lanyard around his neck, flicking it at the door before pulling it open as though it had never been locked at all.

John’s brow furrows as he stands up hesitantly, though he doesn’t move towards the exit. “Why? Aren’t you part of the- this organization?” He motions pointedly to the metal he can see poking out from Angus’s fancy shirt.

The boy shrugs, holstering his wand. “Sure I am. But there’s something fishy happening around here, and I think it has to do with you, at least a little bit.”

That doesn’t make sense.

“That doesn’t make sense,” John replies. He knows fully well there are plenty of odd things surrounding him, but he can’t imagine how that’s related to whatever is going on with possibly shady magic artifact collecting.

“It doesn’t _yet_. The Director has been acting strange since you showed up though. It might not be related, but that’s an awful big coincidence, don’t you think sir?” John opens his mouth to protest but Angus continues, oblivious. “Besides, she should have let you out days ago. Between my report and how much the guards have been talking in your favor she has to know you aren’t a threat. At the very least you should be in a proper room by now. So either you’re related to the funny business and I have a good reason to go into her office with you, or I just get to have another pair of eyes.”

Well it sounds downright logical when he puts it like that, though John supposes he doesn’t have all the pieces Angus does with whatever is going on here.

After a long moment John nods, stepping out of the cell. “How are we getting out?”

Angus beams at him. He’s missing one of his canines and John isn’t sure why but he finds it endearing.

“Do you know how to cast blink?” Angus asks mischievously, as though he already knows the answer and is expecting John to catch on any second now and follow along with the implied plan.

Unfortunately, John has no idea what that means.

“Uh, no,” he says awkwardly, and the grin falls of Angus’s face.

“Fuck.”

He feels like he should say something to that. John doesn’t have much experience with children, but he’s moderately sure someone still losing their baby teeth isn’t usually allowed to use language like that. The considering expression on Angus’s face stops him. Clearly he’s trying to come up with a plan B, something that will keep them unnoticed and-

“Let’s just go I guess.”

Or not.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath John looks down at the boy, at his lackadaisical expression as he begins walking towards the door, taking his wand out as he does. “Are you sure that’s the best-”

Angus opens the door, motioning for John to follow.

With a reluctant sigh he does. This is probably his best chance at answers after all.

The guards let out duel confused noises, and though he can’t quite see them since they’re on either side of the door he hears the sound of a sword moving a little out of its sheath.

“Agent McDonald?” One of them asks. “What are you doing? What is Smith doing out of his cell?”

Angus looks up at them, his hands behind his back, and John is sure his face is the picture of saccharine sweetness. “Why ma’am, I’m just taking Mister Smith to see the Director. She asked for him, and I’m the only person here he knows after all.” His hand flicks the wand behind his back.

One of the guards moves back, but the other scoffs and stands in front of their only exist. “Nope. How come no one told us? And how didn’t we see you go in?”

Clearing his throat John steps forward, placing a hesitant hand on Angus’s shoulder to make them seem more familiar with one another. Angus doesn’t even move.

“I heard the door open,” he says pointedly. “Maybe you just weren’t paying enough attention? Besides, this decision was clearly made very recently-”

“It was.” Angus corroborates quickly.

“There just wasn’t the time to tell you.” He gives them a politician’s smile, too smooth around the edges and nowhere near his eyes.

Somehow, they buy it.

The remaining guard blinks, shaking their head for a moment before stepping out of the way with a flustered apology. Resisting the urge to give Angus a surprised look at their success John follows behind him.

Even though it shouldn’t it surprises him that the sun is shining when they step outside it still does. Somehow he assumed it would always seem like night time, since they’re on the moon and all. But no, there are people milling about and it’s bright and _warm_. Even though he’s only been in a cell for a week it feels like he hasn’t felt the sun on his skin in, god, years, decades even.

_Eons._

The thought leaves his mind just as quickly as it entered.

No one gives them a second glance as they weave through, Angus walking with the sort of determination that only a child can muster while John follows a little haplessly behind. They enter the largest dome, and if they weren’t so clearly going somewhere John might have asked what the circular, perfectly blank room that you could look in to was for.

Instead they go down one of the two hallways that branches off the viewing room towards a ornate wooden door that clashes terribly with the otherwise modern aesthetic of this base, if you were to ask him. Not that anyone does.

Taking a deep breath Angus lays his hand on the doorknob, looking back at him. “I heard the Director is supposed to be at the Fantasy Costco right now, something about Garfield threatening to leave. If she’s in here though I need you to follow my lead, all right sir?”

Half of those words don’t actually make sense together or separately, but John nods anyway.

The room has a fairly standard layout, despite the rather ornate furniture. A portrait behind a chair behind a desk, three chairs lined in front of it with their backs to the door. There’s a person in each of the chairs.

All three of them turn around when the door opens, the same people whose room he had woken up in. He doesn’t know their names, but he does know the shortest one is a dwarf now and the broadest one is probably a human.

“Sirs?” Angus looks nervous which, well, is less than ideal. He scurries into the room and John does the same, watching as he quickly shuts the door. “What are you doing here?”

“We have a mission tomorrow.” The human turns all the way around, arms crossed, legs on either side of the chair back and looking like a rebellious teenager fused with a suspicious father. It’s uncomfortable to say the least.

A nervous laugh bubbles out of Angus’s throat. For someone who tricked two people so easily not even ten minutes previous he is awful at this. “Huh. That’s great! Well. Um. The Director told me to, uh, bring Mister Smith in for uhh…” He trails off, biting his lip and looking anywhere but at the men in front of him.

“A private talk?” The dwarf supplies.

“Yes!” Angus smiles but mostly it looks like he’s about to faint. At this point John has half a mind to bolt and see if there’s a way off the moon.

The dwarf laughs, and even though it’s a little patronizing there’s still something warm and comforting about it. “Yeah, no kid. I’m callin’ bullshit. I cast zone of truth!” He shouts is like he’s performing for a crowd, but the only response he gets as an aura of light fills the room is an overdramatic groan from the elf.

John opens his mouth to make a biting comment about how unnecessary and rude this is, really, he’s not sure how this works but Merle should turn it off, but Angus interrupts. “I was going to take John through the Director’s secret door to maybe see why she’s being so weird about him and also checking if maybe she hid the r̷̙͙͛̓e̸͓̿l̷͕i̸̬̐̏ĉ̴̠ş̸̮̈́̾ back there because I don’t think she’s getting rid of them!” He says quickly, gasping for breath by the time he’s done. For a brief moment John is worried he’s about to have a seizure or something, because he could swear he heard radio static in the middle of that sentence. He must have just been hearing things though, right?

“Hey Ango,” the elf says slowly. “What the fuck? Like, you’re kidding, right bubeleh?” Angus shakes his head.

Maybe he should step in but honestly? Now he’s just curious to see where this will go. He leans against the door, hands moving to rest off the pockets of a suit he isn’t wearing anymore before awkwardly hanging by his sides. It’s not like anyone’s paying him any mind, it’s fine.

Angus starts rambling again, saying roughly the same thing he told John earlier but with more details that he has no context for, more words he can’t understand. He’s sure now that they’re static, but he has no idea how. It’s probably some kind of magic, but that doesn’t actually do anything to soothe his now fraying nerves. Are they doing it on purpose? Is he the only one that hears it? God he hates not knowing things. That’s what got him into the whole mess with-

With-

It seems the dwarf, elf, and human have started talking, half among themselves and half with Angus. Without realizing his breathing has quickened, his heart beating too quickly and too noticeably in his chest. He forces his eyes on the dwarf’s hands, watching as they nervously fumble braids into his beard and the stray hair that escaped from his messy bun. It’s calming, just like seemingly every other thing about him. Familiar.

His hands finally drop to his side and he nods, and suddenly everyone is looking at John expectantly. Fuck, he’s missed something.

“I don’t know your names.” He blurts out, which absolutely isn’t what he meant to say. It certainly was on his mind, but that wasn’t his intent.

“I’m Magnus, that’s Merle, that’s Taako, that’s Angus,” the human replies, bouncing on his toes impatiently as he motions to each person. “Are we going or what? Magnus rushes in, you know?”

Nodding seems to be the right answer. With an excited “whoop, spy stuff!” the human starts walking towards- Huh. He hadn’t even noticed the door on that wall. With a mental shrug he follows, trailing behind the rest of them.

The door isn’t locked. Which is odd, but okay. It opens into a long hallway, a smattering of pillars on either side. They fan out into the room and start making their way towards the locked vault on the other end, and John is about to open his mouth and ask if anyone else things this is strange when suddenly his foot sinks into the floor.

He blinks and hears an awful slurping sound. When his eyes open he’s alone, the floor is black tar that he’s sinking in to. It looks like going towards the center of the room, probably towards a drain of some sort. He tries to turn, to move back towards the door they came in through, but he’s stuck.

Struggling only seems to be making it worse, but there’s nothing else he can do. The others are gone, swallowed by the inky black. It is a second and it is an eternity when he finds himself engulfed as well, sludge pouring into his mouth and lungs as he screams and god, no, not again, _not again, I can’t do this, Merle help-_

As suddenly as he slipped in he’s out, sputtering and coughing in a strong pair of arms. There’s a high pitch ringing in the distance. “It’s not real,” a voice says, gruff but somehow soothing. “It’s an illusion John, you’re okay.”

And just like that the tar is gone. He’s in Magnus’s arms, he can breathe again, and when he looks around he sees Taako and Merle huddled around Angus, who’s kneeling on the floor and looking like he’s trying not to cry. Magnus gently sets him down and he wobbles a little on his feet, but he catches himself on a broad shoulder. “Thank you,” he croaks out, and his throat hurts so much he wonders if he really was screaming. “Can- can someone- that noise-”

It stops and Angus stands up on equally shaky legs, clutching his wand in both hands. “We don’t have a lot of time. Sirs, we-we need to-”

“Way ahead of you little man.” Taako pulls a slingshot out of his bag, aiming it at the door and Magnus scoops Angus and Merle off the floor. He fires and a hole appears in the middle of the vault and he’s running, Magus is running, and John runs too.

They make it inside and John looks around the small room. Map of Faerun on the wall, a desk with stacks of journals on it. Those are probably important, right?

Before he can pick one up Magnus gasps. He turns around and sees the man’s eyes are wide, mouth agape. Merle and Angus have been set down and are looking at the same thing he is. Following their gazes leads John to… a tank. There’s something inside is, he knows there is, but his brain won’t let him process what he’s seeing. It’s just a blur of water and light.

Out in the hall the door opens and Magnus springs forward, dumping out the flask on his hip before unceremoniously shoving it into the tank. “Come here, we need to drink _now_ ,” he hisses, but there’s something in his eyes that says he isn’t quite sure why he’s doing this either.

“Magnus? Is that you?” Says a voice from down the hallway, sounding slightly panicked. “What are you doing?”

Like a college student at his first frat party Magnus takes a swig from flask before pushing it into the nearest hand, which happens to be Taako’s. There are footsteps rapidly approaching, and though none of them really know why they pass it along and all of them except Angus have drunk from the tank in a matter of seconds.

By the time the Director steps in Merle is the one holding the container. At her side is a short man - a gnome? -  with neat facial hair and a neater suit who looks confused and worried.

Merle throws him the flask.

“What are you doing?” She sounds three seconds away from an anxiety attack. “Davenport, don’t-”

The last thing John sees before he collapses under the weight of his memories rushing to the surface is the gnome drinking from the flask.

~

_In spite of the subject matter, or maybe because of it, his talk is a hit, he finds out the next day. Millions of people have already watched the recording, and when he checks his email he has dozens of requests to do longer, more in-depth lectures around the world.  It’s gotten people talking about death, about eternity, getting them to start to really comprehending what that means._

_Somehow he doubts they understand to the same extent he does._

_He does it though. Not for the money or the fame, but in the hope that just one person will actually understand. Just one, that’s all he really wants._

_With every presentation he goes on longer, more people come and listen._

_After the eight he throws away his notes._

_After the eleventh the desperation has started to creep in, the horror at how truly long eternity is._ This will never stop, _he hisses into the microphone._ Think about that. Nothing and no one will ever stop.

_After the nineteenth he starts raging and crying and in his hotel rooms after his talks. The only thing more terrifying than having to keep going forever is the idea that he’s the only one who will ever understand._

_After the thirty-second he calms down. Not because the truth has become any easier to bear, the fact that he seems to be the only one truly getting it so far less frustrating, but because it’s pointless. Existence stretches on into eternity and it is_ pointless _._

 _After the thirty-fourth he begins and ends with a simple question._ Why should we be made to made to pay a price for something we never asked for? _Even he isn’t sure if he’s talking about life or awareness._

 _After the fifty-seventh he starts shifting towards the idea of stopping, of_ destroying _the very concept of forever. How wonderful would it be to truly end, to be allowed to end._

_At the sixty-eight he is no longer alone._

_Everyone understands._

_Everyone is in agreement._

_Everyone is_ dissatisfied _._

_Darkness envelops them and they ascend._

~

_They are one. They are nothing. They are all._

~

_It isn’t enough to destroy their own plane. Eternity stretches much further than just them after all._

_So they move. They absorb everything they come across, growing larger and stronger and more capable of overthrowing the laws of the universe itself. If someone isn’t convinced before they are welcomed within that is soon changed._

_But then the light escapes. They don’t know how it happens. They don’t care. No matter how strong they get they need the light to hold together what they take in._

_They give chase._

~

_He is himself._

_For the first time in a millenia he is himself. He’s in a room. He has a body. He talks with someone - actually talks! With a mouth and a voice! It’s novel, but he knows better than anyone that he can’t allow this to last. They’re doing important work after all._

_So he kills, and he leaves._

_And then he is back._

_And so it goes. Over and over and over. And slowly, so slowly, he begins to look forward to it. He begins to like being himself again. When he leaves he is still a part of, still at the core of, but he does not become they. It’s a change, but maybe he’s needed a change. They’ve needed a change._

Are you my friend?

_There is no right answer._

~

_They are starving. It’s been so long, longer than than they have ever gone without saving taking in destroying a new plane._

_He is still not they. He never will be again. They hate him. It’s his fault, it’s all his fault, he did this, he helped them, he is himself and soon they will wither away into nothing because of him, because he couldn’t stay dedicated to their goal, thought he wanted to save everything from forever he does not he does not he does NOT._

_He misses his friend._

~

_The light has been found._

_It isn’t whole but that doesn’t matter. All the pieces are there, and those pieces will naturally come together with enough pressure._

_In spite of their hunger, of maybe because of it, they return to old routines. Scouting. Waiting. Preparing. Readying what strength they have after they were betrayed._

_He is being destroyed, cracking and crumbling and soon he will be nothing, no, he doesn’t want to be nothing. The only thing worse than eternal is not at all, because not at all means he will never see his friend again._

_So he siphons away strength._

_They allow it. There is nothing he could say, nothing he could do, that would stop them. They are hungry, so hungry, and there is nothing that could stop them from feasting again, from continuing their noble goal of saving the universe and all those who reside in it._

_He calls his friend._

Hey Merle. You got a minute?

Hey Merle. You got a minute?

Hey Merle. You got a minute?

_He dies by fire and he would laugh at how fitting it was if he weren’t so scared, so confused._

_He is still the core of them._

_Their core is gone. Not destroyed, not assimilated. The ties to him snap like a rubber band._

_They break._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like it's important to say here that the top of this chapter before i started writing it in earnest was "Hell yeah the angus shit n the mystery and the voidfish is gonna go here and we’re gonna BREAK JOHN OUT OF PRISON and it’ll be SICK" and i wrote that at eleven in the morning after a full nights sleep
> 
> updated also: this chap's been edited minorly
> 
> also also i can't believe i used a glitch text generator in this the year of our lord 2018


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some suggested tunes (aka what i listened to writing this and the last chapter):  
> i promise i'm trying - cavetown  
> hug all ur friends - cavetown  
> undertow - suzanne vega

Honestly? She should have known this would happen.

All of them have had the ichor, except maybe Angus. That doesn’t matter. Merle is blinking rapidly, face scrunched up like he’s just eaten a lemon. Magnus sways on his feet and props himself on the baby voidfish’s tank. (She never could get around to naming them. It would be wrong for her to do so, especially when Magnus is right there.) Taako is staring with wide eyes at nothing, body stiff and clutching the umbra staff to his chest. The Hunger - John, she supposes - is already passed out on the floor, Davenport by his side and fussing over him while muttering to himself. Then Davenport freezes, reaching for something. There are tears welling in his eyes.

There are only two real options here. At this point she has about forty-five seconds, give or take.

Option one: Book it to the hanger. If no one is there she can fire herself at random and hope she doesn’t die, and if there is someone she can point them in a direction and maybe steer the pod somewhere else. Spend the time she has left trying to atone for something she knows can never be forgiven.

Option two: Stay here. Deactivate the ward. Sit and wait until she can either try to explain herself or get a magic missile to the chest.

Thirty seconds.

Just like so much of her life there isn’t really a good option, just ones that are bad in different ways. Would talking to her help give them all closure, or would they prefer to never see her face again? Is it really better if they don’t get a chance to do whatever they feel like they need to with her? It’s not like she has that much time left anyway, after Wonderland. Not compared to what she’s been through. And what about-?

“M-ma’am?”

Right. Angus. Angus is still here. _Shit._

“Ma’am what’s happening?”

She knows what the better answer is.

“Would you mind waiting in my office?” she asks, and it sounds so far away. “You’ll get an explanation soon enough, I promise.”

Hopefully he won’t mind if it isn’t her doing the explaining.

Fifteen seconds.

Not really paying attention to whether she gets a response or not she walks over to the desk. She opens a journal, writing with one hand and deactivating the ward with the other.

_I was trying to stop the Hunger. I didn’t know how long it would take to find the relics. I’m sorry._

Someone shifts and she turns around just in time to see Taako, umbrella outstretched and tears streaming down his face, light building at the staff’s tip. Magnus watches with a stony expression, still leaning against the tank.

The spell fizzles out.

“What are you doing?” A small voice cries out and, oh, Angus didn’t leave. He’s standing by the vault door, eyes wide and hands flapping in forceful, jerky motions at his side in distress. “Sir what-what’s going on?”

Magnus scowls, an expression that doesn’t look right on his face and never has. “I don’t know Angus. Why don’t you ask _Lucretia_?” His tone is dripping with acid, so much so that she flinches. In all the time they’ve known each other she has never heard him sound like that, never seen that kind of fury. It’s deep and deadly, an open wound full of toxic sludge, and he seems to want nothing more than to make her feel a fraction of his pain.

There’s a gasp from by John and she turns and sees Merle, his hand on Davenport’s shoulder. Davenport is shaking, looking around with wide eyes like he’s trying to figure out where he is. He might be, for all she knows. Finally his gaze meets hers, looking more alert and aware than he has for over ten years. Even knowing it’s her own damn fault seeing her Captain, really seeing him, is almost enough to make her break out into tears.

Davenport takes a shuddering breath, shrugging off the wooden hand attempting to help ground him, and steps toward her. No one makes a sound.

“What did you do?” he asks softly.

It’s that more than anything that startles her. Out of everyone she thought he would be the fastest to fly into a rage, start slinging words like daggers until she yields. Instead he sounds confused and betrayed, and the real question he’s asking hangs in the air.

_Why?_

All of them look at her, accusing and righteously upset. It is far too late to turn back now.

She wishes she were holding her staff, longs for the texture under her hands to make this a little easier. “I needed to erase the memories of the relics on this world. We were destroying it, but I already knew none of you supported me-”

“So you had to fucking Men in Black us?” Taako interrupts, enraged. “For your stupid little plan we couldn’t just forget the relics and let you go on your merry fucking way? I could have found her before she died! I could have-” He chokes on an angry sob, holding the umbra staff so tightly it looks like it will break any second.

“It wasn’t supposed to take this long! I just- if I hadn’t gotten rid of the mission you would have left, or-or been paranoid about the Hunger coming with no way of leaving, I couldn’t do that to all of you-” It’s Magnus that breaks in this time, voice a low growl.

“But you could take all of that from us? Take _everything_ from some of us?” He motions towards Taako but his eyes are locked on Davenport’s exhausted face. There really isn’t an answer to that.

“Where is the Starblaster, Lucretia?” Davenport asks, smoothing over his mustache. “The Hunger will be here any day, with how many relics are here, and even if we wanted to use your barrier we don’t have time to get the Animus Bell. We need to leave.”

Before she can even try to parse how to answer that question Merle gasps, the first noise she’s heard him make. “Oh jeez,” he murmurs. “Oh sweet Pan. I killed the freakin’ Hunger.”

All hell breaks loose.

“You did what?”

“Don’t you dare Highchurch-”

“I don’t think he’s-!”

“What are you all-?”

“He fucking did this-”

“-doesn’t mean we should kill-”

“Please listen-”

“-basic risk assessment-”

“-both those bastards, it’s their-”

“Everyone needs to calm down-”

“-put a cap in all your asses, don’t think-”

“‘Cept he hasn’t done anything-”

“-take that chance?”

“-this whole world-”

At some point in the shouting Lucretia finds herself against the wall, watching as Merle stands against Magnus and Taako who look ready to kill. Davenport is between them, arms out as though could really stop any of them if they tried to strike. There’s a flash of blue by the tank and her brain is screaming at her that everything needs her attention, everything is a threat right now.

“Quiet!”

Unnatural silence falls over them. Their mouths are still moving, but one by one they stop, turning towards the voice that silenced all of theirs.

John sits on the floor, still trying to talk so quickly that Lucretia can’t even begin to read his lips. He points to Merle, then to his own throat, then his ears. It’s obvious he panicking, chest moving rapidly with his breath. None of them really know what to do with him like this; with the Hunger like this.

If nothing else it’s a thorough distraction. The malice in the room has drained out suddenly, replaced by confusion.

Wiping the tears off his face with one hand Taako uses the other to try and cast something, brows furrowing for a moment before altering whatever spell he’s going for.

Just like that the words tumbling out of John’s mouth are audible again, nearly deafening after the quiet. “-magic is it, it must be magic, please I- I…” he trails off, clearly uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny.

“Johnny…” Merle says, sounding awed and hopeful.

“Team meeting. Now.” Davenport interrupts before he can continue. “You two, stay- stay here. You, with us.” He points at Lucretia and John, then Angus, his tone brokering no room for argument. There is a lot that needs to be discussed she supposes, two complicated situations that she has no business barging in on.

Regardless, she grabs one of her journals, one near the top. Of course she’d kept a record of everything she’d done, her plans and failures. Knowing it’s an unwelcome, but perhaps necessary addition to the conversation that’s about to take place she hands it to Angus on his way out. No one looks happy to be leaving them in the vault, though the thought of trying to get to the hanger only occurs to her after Taako barricades the hole in the door with spikes.

She is alone with the man who became the Hunger.

Mostly that makes her feel sick, the idea that they’re on the same level here. Neither trusted, both waiting to see what their fates will be. There’s at least something comforting in knowing there will be some debate for her, if only because she’s family. Or did she used to be after what she’s done?

Now that she’s being given the opportunity the exhaustion rushes through her body, leaving her heavy and hollow, and she slumps down into the desk chair. Cloth shuffles somewhere behind her and it doesn’t surprise her when she sees John out of the corner of her eye. The partially extended hand does though, even if he does retract it after a moment. The silence between them is heavy and awkward, but at least it’s something to fill her up.

Maybe if they have her leave or kill her she can at least get a last hug from Magnus. That sounds nice.

There’s a tap on her shoulder and she sits up straighter, turning towards John with a carefully blank expression. If she allows herself to think too long about what he is, about what he’s done, well… There’s a reason she’s been trying to stay away from him, and even with her age and no magical conduit she could undoubtedly still do some damage.

Unlike some people she does have some modicum of restraint though. She waits with far more politeness than she thinks he deserves, watching as he clears his throat and looks away. “What happened? With… everything?”

Oh no, no no no, this is not a conversation she wants to be having with him of all people. She narrows her eyes. “I don’t think that’s any of your concern, do you?”

To her surprise John laughs. Not uncomfortably, but in a way that sounds genuine, if fragile. He’s putting up about as much of a front as she is, even if it’s in a very different way. Maybe it’s an effect of all that time he’d spent with Merle. Before now she’s heard him described as quiet, maybe a bit short tempered. (In his defense, Robbie could be… vexing.) Now he seems amicable, maybe even charming, and she almost feels inclined to-

She can’t quite tell what spell he’s using, nor can she fully escape from under it, but if nothing else she knows it’s there.

“I just want to know what’s going on,” John says, leaning a hip against the desk and arms crossed. “You have to understand how frightening this is, especially since this is the most control I’ve had in a long time.” He seems surprised by his own statement, and now she can safely narrow down what it is and the fact that he accidentally cast it on himself as well.

Zone of truth. How fitting.

Now that she knows then she can worm her way around it, get more from him than he will from her.

“What do you mean?” She flips to the next blank page in the already open journal, dipping her pen and waiting. He looks at it suspiciously, opening his mouth to protest, but that isn’t what comes out.

“The only time I’ve been in charge has been during my Parley’s with Merle. Before those I was a part of what you called the Hunger, and after that I was what held it together.” It’s useless information, but she finds herself writing it down anyway. John doesn’t look happy about it. Frankly, she couldn’t care less if she tried.

A heavy sigh escapes him and he runs a hand through his hair, looking much older than his physical body would suggest. She knows the feeling. “If we’re going to do this, would you give me the courtesy of going back and forth? Merle did.” There’s no way he means it as a jab but she flinches a little anyway, trying to cover the movement with a nod. His lips quirk in a small smile. “All right then, what is going on? You’re Lucretia, aren’t you?” He chuckles, holding up a hand before she can answer. “The second question was rhetorical. He talked about all of you”

“Do you know what the voidfish is? The- the jellyfish, in that tank over there.” He raises a brow at her and she can see some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Answering a question with a question is cheating, don’t you think? But yes, I do. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I used it on them. For ten years.”

The statement hangs between them like a noose.

He continues onward, even though she can see the real questions dancing in his eyes. “How did you keep this world hidden from us?”

“It’s not your turn,” she fires back lightly, and she can feel herself sinking into her chair a little. “How are you here?”

That genuinely makes him pause, and she has half a mind to ask something else when he answers with a shrug, “Merle killed me. Hiding this world?”

And so it goes, the two of them asking increasingly inconsequential questions. Much as she hates to admit it it’s a good distraction from the conversation that’s happening two rooms over, and John is genuinely charming. Both of them avoid touchy subjects as much as they’re able, considering how well they know each other. A few hit a little two close (“Where are the other two? Merle said there were seven of you.”), but overall it isn’t actually awful. At the end she feels calmer at least, and for the first time she understands why Merle’s smokey outline would remain for days after his departure even when he only returned with scraps of information.

By the time the others return, or at least Davenport, she feels a little more ready for whatever was about to happen.

By the time the others return, or at least Davenport, she feels a little more ready for whatever was about to happen.

They walk back into her office and the first thing she notices is the painting. Someone’s taken the illusion on it, revealing a relic from… perhaps not happier days, but certainly from before this whole mess. She looks away before she can take in the smiling faces, and only then does notice what’s missing.

“Where’s Taako?”

Davenport grimaces as he goes and sits in her chair, or perhaps what used to be hers. At this point she’d be more surprised if she was still in charge of the Bureau than if she weren’t. “He didn’t really, uh, like the decisions we’ve-we’ve reached so, he’s in the- he went to the-”

“He’s in the arena fucking shit up.” Magnus pipes in, hard and distant. His arms are crossed on his broad chest and he’s leaning against the wall, managing to look threatening even in the relaxed position.

Despite the stone of guilt weighted in the pit of her stomach Lucretia pushes onward. “And Angus?” The response comes a bit unexpectedly from Merle, standing off to the side and smirking as though nothing is off about this situation. It only puts her more on edge.

“In the hall.”

Perhaps irritated with how slow this is going John takes a half step forward, looking Davenport in the eye. “So what exactly are these decisions?” He says it as though he has nothing to lose, and Lucretia supposes he doesn’t. There really isn’t a way to convince this world of his ideals, and regardless of his magical potential he hasn’t seemed to notice it yet. Besides, there are plenty of people here more than capable of resisting him.

_ His world is gone too, _ a voice whispers in the back of her mind, but she ignores it. Even if it is true it was his own fault.

A smile settles on Magnus’s face but there’s nothing behind his eyes except quiet rage. “You wanna tell ‘em Cap’n?”

“I told you not to- whatever. We’re inoculating the rest of the BoB.”

Silence settles over them, so unnatural that for a moment she thinks someone has cast another spell. But no, she can hear her heart pounding in her ears, the ragged edge to her own breath that signals an encroaching panic attack

It takes her an eternity to find her voice again, strained though it is. “You’re  _ what _ ? You can’t-”

“That isn’t your choice to make anymore.” Magnus’s interjection shuts her up, nearly biting her tongue with how quickly she closes her mouth. A quiet clearing of the throat draws everyone’s attention back to their former (current?) leader.

“As I was saying. I’m putting myself in charge, temporarily. Top priority is finding Barry and- and Lup’s remains, then the Animus Bell.” As solid of a plan as it is she almost wants to argue, but, well, it really isn’t her place anymore. Not for the first time she wishes things could have been different, that she’d made them be different. There’s no point in wishing to change the past now though. The Chalice is gone.

“What about us?” Merle chuckles nervously from his place on the sidelines and Lucretia can see his fingers twitching, wanting to fiddle with something but not in front of someone. Probably Davenport, but considering the undercurrent of nerves that were in John’s voice it could just as easily be because of him.

“Well uh, that’s kind of the question of the hour Johnny.”

“I thought you said you figured it out?” The man’s voice cracks on the last word.

“We have, as far as moving forward with immediate problems.” Davenport replies, which somehow makes John look more tense. “But as far as you two? No, we’ll need more than a couple hours to work that out.”

“It’d also be kind of, well, rude. To leave Barry out of this when we know he’s around.” Somehow Magnus manages to sound startlingly casual, like this is a giant joke. “Sure would have been great to know that, am I right?”

Lucretia may not be able to argue with their decisions, but she can damn well try to defend her own.

“Magnus I couldn’t-” She isn’t allowed to finish the thought.

“No. Just... No.”

The air between them is tense, almost crackling with his animosity. “Anyway!” Merle shouts, either trying to diffuse or distract from the tension. “John’s stuck with me. We’re moving to private quarters, just in case.” If nothing else that she can get behind.

Even with everything John still manages to look confused. “In case of what? The Hunger is gone, and frankly I have no desire to bring it back anymore.” As though they would trust him.

“Mmm, bullshit.” For the first time today she wholeheartedly agrees with Magnus.

“Hahah. Uh. Just uh, in case, y’know? Don’t want you using your bard crap on anyone.” The dwarf wiggles his fingers and it’s more tempting than she wants to admit to snap at him for revealing one of the few things she’d thought were on their side. John is an unknown, even to himself, and if Merle keeps this up he could become very dangerous very quickly.

“I’m not a-?” Davenport cuts him off.

“Lucretia, you’re with me. You- you know the inner workings of the Bureau better than I do, you can help me sort things out quicker.” What can she do to that but nod?

It seems like he’s about to dismiss them all when Magnus pushes himself up, walking towards the hallway that leads to her old room and private office. “Oh, and Junior’s going back with their uh- mama? Papa? Zaza? With Fisher. Where they should have been this whole time.” He checks her with his shoulder as he walks by and she turns sharply, grabbing his arm gently.

He turns, eyes meeting hers, and for a brief moment he looks softer. “I’m sorry.”

The moments passes. “Uh huh. Yeah. Sure.”

“Stop it, both of you.” Davenport barked and she pulled back, watching Magnus stiffly walk away. “We can finish hashing this out when everyone’s- when most of us are here. Right now we’ve got work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the (comparative) wait! this one was uh. rough. writing wise. i appreciate all the support this has gotten tho like jeez *peace sign emoji*
> 
> also i feel like i should say i have in fact been rolling for people's actions. so, for example, i pre-rolled taako the damage for magic missiling lucretia Just In Case and then... he got a nat 1. so i hope that helps explain some things.
> 
> also also feel free to hmu on my tumblr chalkunderstars, i might post updates on how fics are going and i will for sure answer questions and chat n shit
> 
> chapter edited on 4/6/18


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up that i edited the last section of chapter 3, so maybe check that out. also we're at over 500 hits and 10k words and i feel like i should. do a Thing. but idk what so if anyone has any suggestions hmu on my tumblr chalkunderstars i guess.

Everything that’s happening is kind of surreal, and if he didn’t know any better Merle would think the last week has just been a really, really involved dream. He’s not that smart or creative though, so this has gotta be real. The Director - Lucretia, gods, he can call her Lucretia again - had pulled some top tier “wrong thing for the right reason” bullshit on them, and because of that the Hunger accidentally ended up getting destroyed. He’d talk to her if he could, but that’ll have to wait. There’s too much to do, and besides that Davenport had asked for the two of them to be left alone anyway. Which is fine. The rest of their lives are spread out in front of them and looking as vast as the ocean. And yeah, maybe their days are numbered now that they’re stuck in one place, but dammit they’ve got _time_. He knows that technically it’s limited, but the astral plane doesn’t seem that bad and from there they have eternity. In one place. Together.

Together, including John.

And that’s probably the wildest part of all of this. Even in the most hopeful of his best case scenarios he just thought they would talk one last time. Play a last game of chess. Maybe John would even admit he was wrong. Instead they’re walking side by side, both of them grounded on the material plane and within arms reach of one another.

Okay, so side by side isn’t really accurate. Merle is leading the way back to the dorms, talking a fantasy mile a minute about whatever dumb thoughts enter his brain, and John is following behind even though he should be able to keep up, what with the height advantage and all. Damn humans.

A hand grasps his shoulder and he stops, turning around with a question on his lips that dies when he sees John’s face. Looking up at him, the real him, isn’t ever gonna get old, he can tell. And yeah, he doesn’t have the nice suit on anymore, but even in the shitty BoB jumpsuit he looks snazzy as hell. Maybe that’s just how he always is, or maybe Merle is just gay.

(And sweet Pan that’s nice to be able to think. That particular realization had been made on the Starblaster, and he doubts Lucretia even knew, and she certainly didn’t mean to erase it. But he remembers again and, jeez, he should really send an apology down to Hecuba. There were a lot of reasons their marriage hadn’t worked, but this must have been a big one.)

“Could we… stay outside a bit longer?” John asks, looking all hesitant and cute with the barest hint of a flush on his cheeks. There’s really only one way to answer that, so he nods and doesn’t think about how dumb the smile on his face probably looks.

Grabbing John’s hand Merle starts dragging him in a different direction, resuming a conversation neither of them had even been paying attention to.

After a couple minutes they end up under a tree on what passes for a hill on the moon. Merle flops down, hands behind his head as he looks up through the leaves. This place has a pretty good view, partially of the ocean and partially of the sky, but they’re positioned where the sun can’t get in his eyes. It’s about as close to perfect as someone could get up here. He’d prefer to be on be beach, watching the sunset while the tide comes in around him, knowing there’s a little cottage somewhere behind him and further out a nice forest, but this is nice too. The sounds around here are of life, of people, rather than crashing waves, but that suits him fine.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees John sit down, back against the bark and looking like he wanted to adjust himself. Probably doesn’t wanna get his clothes dirty, even if that’s what they’re made for.

 _Dork,_ he thinks fondly, and for the first time doesn’t feel a little guilty afterwards.

‘Cause yeah, John’s done some pretty awful shit. That’s just a fact. And whenever he thought about it before he’d feel bad, if only because John was still doing those things. Now though? They’re both here, and the Hunger is gone, and god dammit he will enjoy this. Revel a little bit in the vague feelings he’s had for years.

Okay, not that vague, but he can pretend. It’s a little less embarrassing that way.

They sit in silence for long while, he isn’t really keeping track, and he thinks maybe John has fallen asleep but starts talking anyway, not really caring about whether he wakes him or not.

“Why’d you start that parley up with me?” he asks. There isn’t a response, not even movement, so he opens his mouth to say it again when he’s interrupted by a soft laugh. Typical.

“You aren’t going to believe me if I tell you.” John replies, and Merle isn’t really sure how to answer that. A declaration of trust after all they’ve been through would be… weird, but zone of truth seems invasive. He doesn’t get that long to deliberate when the other man continues. “I was going to tell you how to stop the Hunger. It seems I didn’t need to.”

The memory hits him like a truck and he winces, thinking of the genuine fear in John’s eyes and the feeling of his warhammer in his hands. Maybe Smoosher is gonna need to be retired after this.

John laughs again and Merle sits up, bushy brows furrowed. “What’s so funny?” he says, knowing he’s probably missed something but not sure what. It’s a familiar sensation, what with being around kids all the damn time, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Instead of replying John just covers his mouth with his hand, like that makes it more polite. “I just-” He snorts and Merle’s heart melts a little. “How eager were you to kill me? I’d barely even said anything! I guess you should do it a couple dozen more time for it to be proper compensation.” With that he collapses back into his fit of giggles.

It isn’t funny. It _really_ isn’t funny. It really, absolutely, is not funny to anyone in their right mind. Merle finds himself chuckling anyway.

Once they calm down a little Merle scoots up so he’s sitting by John, leaning against him a little even though he goes stiff as stone. “If it makes it any better, I thought you were an illusion or somethin’. I didn’t even think you were real, and I sure as hell didn’t know who you were. I probably woulda heard you out if I did.” He winks up at the man. “Probably.”

They keep laughing and making shitty jokes until the sun is long gone, their hands barely touching in the grass.

~

Davenport is… tired doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Things are trying enough as it is, what with his situation and all. It’s hard to reconcile the man he was before, during, and now after. Words come less easily to him, and the name he had once chosen with pride now tastes like ash when it starts to come out habitually. If anyone calls him Director Davenport - and it’s a possibility, he knows that - he might scream. Cap’nport is a little better, but it still stings, reminding him of everything he’s lost.

A third of his family. His ship. Ten years of his life. Hell, his dignity is in tatters at this point. It’s hard enough for people to take a gnome seriously, but now? After the way everyone has seen him? It’ll be damn near impossible.

Which is why, despite the plan, he hasn’t called anyone yet. Lucretia sits with him quietly as they go over maps and records, but he’s yet to put out an announcement about the change of command or the secondary inoculation.

Magnus left a few hours ago, carrying the newly dubbed Junior and talking to them with all the oblivious pride of a new grandparent. At least one of them has come out of this a little better on the other side, even if it isn’t by that much. Things are a little fuzzy, but he remembers Lucretia stumbling into the wreckage of what was once Raven’s Roost, crying her eyes out and unsure if Magnus had even made it out alive. He remembers trying to comfort her, her arms wrapped around him and desperately apologizing and he hadn’t understood why.

He understands now. In some way he’s already forgiven her. The plan she’d had was carried out efficiently, her betrayal admittedly necessary, and he knows exactly why she had to take as much from him as she did. In the end he even believes she may have succeeded, and it is almost worth it. Most of the relics aren’t causing damage anymore, they can’t, and the Hunger is gone.

At the same time he can’t really condone what she did. In her position he would have worked with everyone, but still erased the general population’s memory of the relics and the relic wars. Maybe that’s what they should have done in the first place. It’s a lot harder to spread the word of something that can’t technically exist in your memory, that you can’t talk about without the words falling to static.

It’s in the past now. Best not to think about the what if’s.

To distract himself  he pulls out one of the smaller maps, tapping on Wave Echo Cave to get Lucretia’s attention. “Lup’s umbra staff was- it was found here, right?” They both know the answer.

“It was. She wasn’t-” Lucretia shrinks in on herself a little bit, either unable or unwilling to meet his eye. “I didn’t have time to try and get her remains.”

For a brief moment familiar fury rises in him and he’s fully prepared to shoot down the excuse, to remind her he’s been here this whole time and he knows she could have gone down at some point in the last year, but he lets it pass. Now isn’t the time. It might never be the time.

As long as he doesn’t let it boil over it’s fine. He is more than used to leaving his anger to simmer.

“Do you have a recommendation for what team to send down?” He would go himself but, well, tomorrow is probably going to be busy and he wants this done as soon as possible.

Unsurprisingly, she hesitates, maybe not wanting to undermine him and his authority. _That ship has already sailed,_ he thinks, lips twitching in amusement. At least he’s still got it when it comes to puns, that’s something. Not a lot, but better than nothing.

“Killian is already familiar with the area.” The answer comes after too long a pause, but he doesn’t draw attention to it. “I can call her down, if you want the team back by tomorrow.”

There are very few things he wants less than to talk to someone else. “Please do.”

As Lucretia takes care of that he starts looking through personnel files again, trying to see if there’s a necromancy specialist on staff. That’s probably their best bet for finding Barry, though if they have to another magic user could work. Taako might be able to use locate creature, but that’s assuming he’s powerful enough and that Barry hasn’t scrambled the signature of his essence to be undetectable. Something like that doesn’t exist on this plane, and they never figured out how to counteract it because they’d never had to before. Lup is more familiar, if she were here she could probably crack it in an hour tops. For now they might have to make do with… Roslyn, a Seeker who had been looking into different methods of defeating liches for the past few years. Less than ideal, but so far she seems like the most qualified.

The sound of the door opening breaks him from his thoughts and he looks up. Standing there is a large orcish woman, a smaller dragonborn, and a floating robot that’s about the size of a car engine. Wonderful. And here he’d been hoping Killian would come alone.

“You needed us, Director?” Says the dragonborn, bouncing a little on her toes in eagerness. Then she sees him, sitting in Lucretia’s chair, having long since taken off the jacket and tie of his suit with his sleeves rolled up messily. It’s the least put together he’s been in ten years.

He pulls out the flask that Merle had tossed him what feels like an eternity ago. “If you wouldn’t mind drinking from this, please?” There isn’t a lot left, but it should be enough for Carey and Killian.

They gape at him as he holds the container out, eyes flickering between him and their former boss. It’s Killian that finally steps forward, taking a sip before passing to her girlfriend. Both of them look confused as more time passes but they don’t remember anything, no new and startling realizations. That’s fine, it’s to be expected. Once he’s sure enough time has passed he sits up a little straighter, ready to give the Fantasy Sparknotes version of the events and what he needs done.

It’s easier than he would have expected, as long as he focuses on the facts. They spent a century fighting a universe destroying force that’s been defeated. They made the relics, then the voidfish was used to erase their memories as well as those of this plane. He’s in charge temporarily, as Lucretia was responsible. One of the members of his crew is dead and her body needs to be recovered.

“So you guys are aliens?” Carey says with a wide grin. Which, okay, not what he was expecting, but he can work with that. He nods.

“Rad,” NO-3113 notes placidly.

Killian leans over and whispers something into her girlfriend’s ear that has them both snickering, and he’s abruptly reminded how unprofessional everything is here. Not that the Starblaster had been a lot better, but it wasn’t this bad at first.

He clears his throat to get their attention and four heads snap in his direction. “You’ll be looking for an elven woman in a red robe. Her remains should be in Wave Echo Cave, possibly near where the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet was found.” He should go on, talk about how she looks like her twin brother, but his throat closes around the words. They’ll figure it out.

“You got it, boss.” Killian gives him a mock salute and his shoulders slump forward a little, relieved of tension he hadn’t even been aware of. “When should we leave?”

“In the next couple hours, if you can. And please, don’t tell anyone about this just yet. I’ll be making an official announcement tomorrow.” They don’t put up a fuss like he was expecting, but maybe he’s just too used to Merle “Zone of Truth” Highchurch. This whole organization is built on secrets after all.

With a quick affirmation and goodbye they are alone again.

If it was hard to ignore the tension in the room before, now it’s impossible. The sounds of papers shuffling is as loud as an explosion in the quiet, and he can’t get his eyes to focus in on words anymore.

He leans against the desk with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to figure out what to say. The words refuse to come.

“I’m sorry.” It’s said quietly, like anything louder would shatter the base down to its core. He sits up a little and Lucretia is finally, _finally_ looking at him. “I’m so sorry. I should have…” She trails off and he can see a million different thoughts cross her mind, a million different regrets. He places a hand on top of hers, trying not to show his surprise at the soft and wrinkled skin. There’s no reason for him to not be used to it yet, but somehow he isn’t.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t trust us.” He returns, holding a little tighter at her flinch. “If we- if _I_ had worked harder to find a compromise this wouldn’t have happened.” For a moment it seems like she might argue but a look from him stops her. Even if she doesn’t accept it, if none of the others’ do, he knows it’s the truth.

Besides, a captain always takes responsibility for his crew.

Davenport forces a small smile, one she returns with equal difficulty. “We’re safe now though, thanks in part to you.”

“It was mostly Merle’s bloodlust,” she returns with a weak chuckle, but it’s enough. They both relax and there are tears building in the corners of her eyes, but she wipes them away with her free hand before they can fall. There’s so much left unsaid, but this is enough for now. He squeezes her hand and she squeezes back and it is enough.

~

There are upwards of two hundred souls suddenly in the astral plane, ones that weren’t escorted by reapers. Anywhere from three to four hundred individuals have appeared in the material place, some of them species which don’t exist and never have. These are both conservative estimates. Even among the gods no one is quite sure of just how much damage has been done or how to fix it. Things are, in short, a mess.

No one knows how this happened, but Kravitz unfortunately has a very good idea of who is responsible.

It takes over a week for him to manage to get away. An unfortunate side effect of being dead is even though everyone is exhausted, it’s purely emotional. Physically they’re all fine, with no need to rest, and with all the chaos it’s downright irresponsible to ask for time off.

Not that that stops him.

Being one of the Queen’s favorites certainly does have its perks, and he hides his anger under a veneer of worry for his boyfriend. He would never say it to anyone, let alone Her, but She certainly does love a good romance and will do anything to support budding love.

Which leads him here, having tried to reach Taako on his Stone of Farspeech for over an hour and getting no response. He asked for five, and if he’s going to get to the bottom of this he knows damn well he will need every second of his remaining time. So instead of trying to call again he locates Taako’s soul (on the moon base, not in his room) and rips a hole between the planes to get to him. It’s not polite and normally he might feel bad, but everything has gone off the fucking rails so common courtesy can go die in a town that time isn’t allowed to touch for all he cares.

The scene that greets him is, well, it looks approximately how everything feels. He arrives in a unfamiliar room covered in dents and scorch marks. Things have been transmuted at random seemingly to be more satisfying to destroy, mostly warped metal and shattered glass. In the center of the wreckage is Taako, breathing heavily and shaking as he casts weak rays of frost. If Kravitz had to guess he’d say his boyfriend had run out of spell slots at least a half an hour ago.

Taako whirls on him, umbra staff held at the ready as though he could really do much damage in this state. Anger melts away to be replaced with genuine worry and Kravitz raises his hands, taking in the elf’s disheveled appearance. Hair wild and only half braided, makeup smeared with smudged dark lines down the cheeks, clothes looking like they’ve just came out of a fight. For the first time it occurs to him that maybe he isn’t the only one having trouble with this whole situation.

It takes what feels like centuries to Taako to lower his arcane focus, smiling thinly and trying to tidy himself up. “Hey bone daddy, wasn’t expectin’ to see you today. Did I miss a date or something?” As if he ever would. Kravitz dismisses his scythe, stepping forward.

“No. I tried to call you dear. What’s going on?” Taako opens his mouth, probably to make a joke or give an excuse, but Kravitz continues. “Beings have shown up in both of our planes, no one knows what’s happening. Did you all- I don’t mean to accuse, of course, but what did you three do this time?”

“Merle killed the apocalypse.” The response comes with a shrug, so artfully casual that if anyone were to buy the front they would have to critically fail something that isn’t even supposed to be a check.

“Pardon?”

Because he must have misheard. If the end of the world was coming surely someone would have noticed, and the idea of Merle doing something competent is so absurd that this has to be a goof to hide whatever’s actually happening.

Except Taako isn’t laughing. If anything the smile on his face is even more brittle and he’s clutching the umbrella like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “This thing we called the Hunger has been chasing us for like a hundred years, and it did a magic meet up with Merle and he killed it by accident before it could start fucking shit up.” He laughs and Kravitz didn’t know a sound so ugly, so _wrong_ could come out of Taako’s mouth. “Hey, at least now we know what’s up with all those unaccounted deaths, amiright?”

He takes a step forward, arm outstretched, but Taako steps back. It hurts more than he would have expected. “What are you talking about? A hundred years and-and a hunger and- what does that have to do with your record? That’s been sorted out, we’ve talked about this.”

Neither of them move, neither of them speak. Taako is shaking so badly it looks like he might fly apart and scatter across the room.

“What’s going on?”

The tension snaps like the string on a violin.

“I’ll fuckin’ tell you,” Taako snarls viciously, and it’s obvious that this storm has been brewing for a while. All Kravitz can do is weather it. “Okay so, so like, I’m an alien. I’m not from this planet. I was part of this fancy ass planar exploration thing, with Magnus and Merle and Davenport and Lucretia and Barry fucking Bluejeans and- and-” He chokes, tears starting to fall again. “And my fucking _sister_. I have a sister! She’s my twin sister and Lucretia just- just made me forget her.”

Kravitz comes as close as he dares, trying to parse the information in a way that makes sense. “You don’t have to- If you want me to understand I need more, love.”

“Oh I’ll give you more.” He starts pacing, faster than one maybe would have expected from him. “We left our, I dunno, planet or whatever, and this fucking vore plane just absorbs it, right? And we land in a new one, and that’s fine, but then it follows us trying to get this- light, the Light of Creation, so we leave, and keeps fucking following us. For a century. And shit resets every year and it doesn’t matter, everyone but us doesn’t matter, but now we’re here. We get here and _we_ were the red robes, _we_ made the grand relics. And Lup left to- to hide hers better, I guess, but she got her dumb ass killed. Lucretia didn’t like the wars and shit, so she just erased our fucking memories! She _took my sister from me_ _!_ ” By the end he’s screaming, gesturing wildly, and this doesn’t actually make any more sense but Kravitz doesn’t have time to try and think about it because Taako throws his umbrella and it’s like a bomb goes off.

There’s a crack of the staff breaking and fire fills the room, warm but not burning, moving around the two of them with grace. It’s a cleansing blast, not ridding the room of signs of damage but clearing some of them. In the middle is a lich, crimson robes flowing and she is elated, it’s obvious in every note of her body, in her perfect stability.

The flames die down and Kravitz has gotten his scythe out, standing in front of Taako protectively as the man desperately tries to stop his flow of tears. The lich floats right up to his face, a grin on her spectral face.

“So you’re the cat dating my little brother, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lup is my amazing wife and i'm Love her.


End file.
